It sits on my chest so that I cannot move. I am a rock, at the bottom of the ocean, left to ponder the distorted shadows of marine wildlife as they glide around me. I have no means to protect myself – no voice to call for help.

It sits on my chest so that I cannot move – subtle smile and razor-sharp teeth.

It takes its hand and gently closes my eyelids, forcing me back to sleep. The pressure makes it difficult to breath, but I’m comforted that someone is watching over me.